Meetings

a visit to a well in the desert

a poem by Gauri Raje

The land above cooks in the desert heat.
All white heat, pure gold, visible.
The frail blue white ribbon of the waters
Searching for shade
Slither and slip between stardust grains
Of desert sand.

Deep underground
A palace.
Rough hewn sandstone rock
Lichen clings, bat shit, bat wings rustle
Musty dampness of echoes
Of memories 
Of life.

These ghosts receive the dribblings of life.
Water.
She must starve 
Remorselessly changing form
Surrender to the underworld.

She seeps past each of the gates
Naked energy emerging
Condensing containing
Gathered welled. Stop.
Waiting for an eternity.

There was life here once.
Grotto of music; 
Refuge of travelers.
Compassion, joy, food and merriment -
The underground has seen it all.

Who is most ancient?
When all has evaporated,
Who cradles the bones and whispers:
‘Seasons will turn.’
Rest in surrender.

Until the skies darken moisten and well over.
Bug-like raindrops over and over
The waters climb each step of the palace
Each column drowns into wetness
A confluence.

The world above to the world below.

Photos taken by Gauri Raje in the wells